


The Boy Next Tent

by n_nami



Series: 31 Cockles AUs in 31 days [30]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: AU, Festivals, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 17:13:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3257888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n_nami/pseuds/n_nami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of Jensen/Misha stories - a new installment is posted every day throughout January 2015.</p><p>Nr. 30: That awkward moment when the guy camping next to you is hot as hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boy Next Tent

It's probably around 8 am, but the tent is too hot and Misha is almost suffocating.

He crawls out, slips into his boots, squinting into the way too bright sun, then pulls out his folding chair and sets it up under their pavilion.

The festival and camping grounds are still quiet, only a few people stumbling towards the toilets with a roll of toilet paper in hand. No music is blaring from any of their surrounding tents, at least not yet. The barbecues are still cold, no smoke or smell of roasting steak in the air. There's a mild breeze tickling the hair at Misha's nape, and this right here, this is peace and happiness for Misha.

He shuts his eyes and leans back in his chair, lets the early morning sun warm his face and enjoys the sleep-heavy feeling in his limbs.

It doesn't take too long until the sun rises fully and one after the other, Misha's friends start to fall out of their tents – in Jared's case, literally. He also heads right for the toilets, even though he’s only wearing some ratty slacks and nothing else. Misha laughs after him.

Danneel flops down into a chair beside him, her hair a mess, but she only bundles it up in a loose ponytail without bothering to brush it. Her top is askew.

“You look like shit,” Misha supplies helpfully.

“Love ya too, Collins,” she flips him off, but smiles. “You look way too chipper for someone who drank most of our gin last night.”

Misha shrugs. “I just can handle my liquor, in contrast to Jared.”

“Did you hear him puke, too?” Danneel snorts.

“No, did he?” Misha asks, delighted at having this very valuable information for teasing Jared later.

“Yes, he did,” Danneel grins. “I don't think he'll be drinking beer today.”

Misha smirks, then goes over to their car, which is parked beside the tents. After fetching two cans of beer from the trunk, he winks at Danneel, who watches Jared approaching.

“Hey, Jared, you want some?” Misha shouts towards him, then opens his beer.

“Fuck off,” Jared groans. “My head is going to explode.”

“Then at least make us breakfast,” Danneel chuckles.

“You trust me to handle the barbecue right now?”

“Who else? Me?” Misha grins. “Chad? And speaking of which, how is he still in there? That's gotta be a sauna in your tent.”

“And he’s still wearing his leather pants from yesterday,” Danneel notes. “Wow. The man is a miracle.”

Meanwhile, Jared sets up the grill with absolutely zero motivation. While he looks for the coals, they sit in silence, only occasionally interrupted by Jared cursing in the background.

In the circle of tents beside theirs, Misha makes out their neighbors, who are starting their day exactly like they are.

“Morning!” one of them, with shaggy brown hair and expressive blue eyes, shouts over. They met yesterday, while setting up their tents, and he seemed like a nice guy.

“Morning!” Misha returns and lifts his can of beer in salute.

“Dude, that's an awesome idea!” Shaggy replies, then digs around in his tent until he comes up with a can, opening it on his way over to Misha. 

They clink cans, the dull sound not nearly as satisfying as the way glass bottles would've sounded.

“So, what are you gonna go see down there today?”

“Let's see,” Danneel pulls out her folded line-up program. “Huh. I don't think we'll watch anything before 7 pm.”

“Slipknot, huh?” the guy laughs, deep and warm. “Then Kataklysm?”

“Of course,” Danneel grins at him, and their look lingers just a second too long.

That's when a voice interrupts them. “Chris?” another guy shouts, and Shaggy turns around.

“I'm over here, Jay,” he shouts.

What then staggers around the corner of a tent is pretty much every wet dream Misha has ever had. The guy has light brown hair that stands up in all directions, plush lips that curve around a yawn as he rubs his eyes – green, Misha notes. He wears boxers and an old band t-shirt, and when he lifts its seam to scratch distractedly at his flat belly, Misha swallows.

“Hey, no fair,” 'Jay' complains, then plucks the can of beer from Chris' hands. “Getting started without me.” He tips his head back and drinks a few long gulps from the can, Adam's apple bobbing up and down, his stubbled neck and chin looking good enough to lick.

Misha places his own beer in his lap so he can push down his erection.

Jay seems to have caught him, though, because he smirks when he hands the now half-empty can back to Chris. “And who're you?” he inquires with a wide grin.

Misha notices that he has freckles. Like, everywhere; splattered over his nose and cheeks, on his neck, on his collarbone, on his fingers. “Misha,” he rasps out, feeling like he's way too old to act like a teenager talking to their crush. It's just a hot guy. An incredibly hot guy. “And you're Jay?”

“Jensen, actually. Jay is fine, though,” Jay – Jensen – answers, still grinning.

Danneel waves from the side. “I'm Danneel.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“And this -” Misha points to a few feet to his right. “Is Jared, the master of barbecue as our Texan quota. Those two legs you see in the tent there are Chad. He's still asleep.”

Chris and Jensen look at each other and share a short smile. “I think we're gonna get along just fine these three days,” Jensen says eventually. “And we can raise your Texan quota.”

“Thank god!” Jared groans, although Misha doesn't know if it's because he just found the coals lying beside, not in, the pile of puke beside his tent or because of what Jensen said.

Misha cackles.

Danneel's eyes find Chris'. “Hey, why don't you join us for breakfast?”

“Yeah, we'd love to,” Chris replies, and doesn't break eye contact with her for another second.

Misha knows exactly what that means, so he looks at Jensen for a reaction. When their eyes meet over the short distance, Jensen gives him an exasperated glance and an almost unnoticeable shrug of his left shoulder. 'What you gonna do?' it says, and Misha tilts his head in agreement.

Chris brings over two chairs, and sits down on Danneel's other side, while Jensen sidles up next to Misha.

They spend the rest of that day listening to music, discover that they all have similar taste, have lunch together, play drinking games in the afternoon until they need a break, then eventually walk towards the festival grounds to see some of the bands playing that night.

Chris has his arm slung over Danneel's shoulders, who's been blushing and giggling all night, and Misha knows these signs. She has a crush, and it's really kind of cute.

And he doesn't really have the moral high ground here either, because Jensen is walking beside him, happy and slightly drunk from a couple Cokes with Jack, giving him these heavy, half-lidded glances every once in a while.

An hour before the headlining band is due to play, the grounds are already packed with people. They somehow manage to get a spot in the back, where they can stand without getting pushed around too much, and settle for that.

Jensen's shoulder is pressed against Misha's, and neither of them is budging an inch. Instead, they share a few hidden looks and smiles.

By the time Judas Priest starts playing, they're standing so close together that Misha can barely lift his cup of beer to his lips. Jensen is standing behind him, crotch pressed to his ass because there's so many people here, there's no other way. You couldn't even fall over right now. Still, it's not like Misha minds.

Between two songs, Misha feels Jensen resting his chin on his shoulder and a hand sneaking around his waist.

“Correct me if I'm wrong here,” Jensen says into his ear, sounding shaken and hopeful. “But you're... um...”

“I think you're fucking hot,” Misha supplies to make it easier for both of them.

Jensen huffs out a laugh and presses Misha closer against his body.

“Believe me, that feeling is very mutual,” he chuckles, kissing Misha's neck softly, making him shudder and want and--

In the darkness of the night and with people around them all focused on the band, Jensen sticks his hand down the front of Misha's pants, stroking him through his boxers.

Misha hums and moans, not that anyone would hear it over the noise of the music.

“Don't worry,” Jensen states the obvious. “No one will notice.”

Misha groans, loud enough for Jensen to hear but no one else, and leans in to kiss him.

They fool around for a while, without either of them getting satisfaction, but when they stumble back towards Misha's tent that night, Jensen is hot on his heels.

**Author's Note:**

> Every little part of this is hard earned experience.
> 
> Credit due to:  
> 1) My best friend Robert, for puking next to his tent from beer alone (he doesn't drink beer any more).  
> 2) Johnny, for sleeping in his tent at 11 am with his leather pants on and us wondering how he hasn't died yet.  
> 3) The guy from France I met at Wacken, simply because his group camped next to ours and he was the only one who was able to speak English.  
> 4) Also my best friend Robert, for being able to handle the grill hungover, drunk, or all of the above.  
> 5) My husband, for the... obvious stuff.


End file.
